Frank Herbert - High-Opp

Movius rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. How indeed? He said, “I believe it.”

“But look what it took to make you believe it,” said O’Brien. He sounded exasperated, like a teacher with a dense student. “It’s the flaw in their armor, of course. Get a man angry enough, bitter enough, he’ll believe almost anything.”

Movius said, “But if you keep him from getting angry—keep him apathetic and his stomach filled, he won’t even listen. He’ll be too tired.”

In a pedantic voice, O’Brien said, “Hunger elicits the first anger response of the baby. So, as you say, keep him from being hungry.”

“Or convince him he knows everything already,” said Movius.

“That, too.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” said Movius.

“Oh, yes, our little visit.” O’Brien’s attitude became more brisk. “Movius, The Coor wanted your fiancée and he needed to demonstrate to… uh, others that he has the power of life and death. That is why you were low-opped.”

“That’s still no answer to my question.”

“One moment,” said O’Brien. “Today, you saw Glass with your fiancée.”

Movius pounded a fist into the palm of his hand. How did O’Brien know who I saw today? “You haven’t answered my question,” Movius repeated.

“Please be patient. As you know, an order will go out tomorrow morning for you to report to the ALP. This is mostly to demonstrate that such… uh, accidents can be arranged. And also gets you out of the sight of the lovely Miss Lang. Not that I imagine such drastic measures were needed to gain the same end. There are other reasons.”

Now we’re getting to it , thought Movius. He said, “Such as?”

“You were a Third Ranker. Were you aware that you were the only man in government above the Fifth Rank who started from the LP? You climbed up there in twelve years. Under this form of government, with so many more places needed for the large families of the… uh, High-Opps, that is a dangerous rate of climb. Dangerous to the men it might displace. I believe some of them voiced their fears.”

“The same opportunity open to all!” said Movius. Just some more of the old official pap. Eat your vitalac, little dear, if you want to grow up and be Coordinator. Dangerous rate of climb. Watch out you don’t eat too much vitalac, dear. You might become dangerous. “So they send me off to die in the ALP,” he said.

“Mortality rate of seventeen point four,” said O’Brien in his precise manner. “With a little pushing in the right place, a promise of reprieve to someone else in the penalty service, the mortality rate becomes one-hundred percentum for one Daniel Movius.”

He still hasn’t answered my question , thought Movius. Mr. Bu-Psych wants something from me. He said, “What do I do now?”

“That depends on several things,” said O’Brien. “In about six weeks a second work order will come through. This will be the legal one and it will put you in Bu-Trans.”

“Why bother with a work order for a dead man?”

“To cover up the false order. That… uh, accidental order would be turned up, somebody in Bu-Labor, somebody inconvenient, would be low-opped.”

Movius thought, If I could hide until that one comes through, wouldn’t that be embarrassing to them? Wouldn’t it, though? He said, “Is there a way to hide me?”

“Perhaps.”

What does he mean perhaps?

“The second work order is for Bu-Trans,” said O’Brien as though he had not already made that point. “Warren Gerard put some special requirements into the sorter today. He’s prepared to wait because he half suspects the order can’t be filled. He doesn’t know that your card already has come out of the sorter, fitting his demands more precisely than he could have expected.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” said Movius. He stood up, looked down on O’Brien.

“Sit down,” said O’Brien. “You have to hear me out.”

“Oh, I have to hear you out.” Movius felt himself breathing too rapidly. He thought, I’ve been swallowing everything this little pipsqueak says. How do I know what his game is?

“Would you prefer the ALP?” asked O’Brien.

“You haven’t told me what your game is,” said Movius.

“I will, though. Sit down and hear what I have to say. Believe me, it’s important.”

Movius returned to the pallet. “All right, but shorten it.”

“As briefly as possible.” O’Brien scratched at the corner of an eye. “Gerard is in a very shaky position at the top of Bu-Trans. His Achilles heel is his Department CR-14, Confidential Routing as it is listed in the table of organization. This department is the government’s top secret spying group.”

“In Bu-Trans?” Movius’ whole face showed his disbelief.

“Who ever looks at a Bu-Trans truck?” asked O’Brien. “It goes about its business and no one notices. For that matter, who ever gives a second glance to the workmen with such a vehicle?”

“What’s worrying Gerard?”

“The Coor’s nephew, Rafe Newton, is director of CR-14. The Coor and Loren Addington…”

“Mr. Police?”

“The same. Only we call him Mr. Bu-Con. These two are set to replace Gerard with Newton.”

“What does this mean to me?”

O’Brien acted like a man about to unfold a masterpiece. He spread out his hands. “Gerard’s requirements are for a man to clean out the vipers in CR-14.”

“And I fit this billing?”

“That’s right.”

“Why are they after Gerard?”

“Next to The Coor, Gerard is the most powerful man in government. At least potentially. He has the biggest organization, larger even than Bu-Con, but not larger than Bu-Con and several of the others upon whom The Coor is depending. It is what was once known as a ‘balance of power’. It is a very delicate…”

“All right, let’s get to the point.” Again Movius lifted himself to this feet. “What is it that you want, O’Brien?”

O’Brien looked up at Movius, put a finger to a greying temple, scratched. “You are the direct type, aren’t you, Dan? That’s good. I want you to spy on the spies… for me.”

Movius found himself chuckling without humor. “Up here at the top you’re just one big happy family.”

“You could say that.” O’Brien got to his feet. “Do you need time to come to a decision?”

“What choice do I have? If I don’t throw in with you, I go to the ALP.” Movius shrugged. “Where do I hide?”

“Good Gallup!” said O’Brien. “I’m not going to hide you.”

“But you…”

“There was a woman waiting for you at the Warren today. She…”

“Is she another of your spies?”

“Her? Oh, my, no. She’s a Separatist. For precisely the same reasons which make you valuable to Gerard and myself and dangerous to the government, the Separatists are seeking to enlist your services. They are in a better position to hide you since I will be suspect.”

“This woman will hide me?”

“She and her friends.”

“Does she have many friends?”

“Grace London? She’s a nurse at the district infirmary in the Warren where she lives. Whole building’s subversive. Good Seps all.”

“I suppose I repay them by spying on them.”

“You needn’t bother.” O’Brien moved toward the wall which had opened to admit him.

“You already had spies in their organization?”

“Let us say that the Seps don’t worry me half as much as The Coor.” O’Brien spoke without turning. “I presume Miss London gave you instructions on how to meet her?”

“Yes.”

The wall swung back ahead of O’Brien. “Then I’ll have you dropped off where you may follow those instructions.”